English Days and Devious Ways
by ArtAngst
Summary: A league itching for action finds new adventure in the form of a Russian lunatic: Rasputin. Again our heroes are defending her majesty's empire against bizarre enemies. New emotions erupt and secrets are shared. Slash SkinnerxTom -ON HIATUS-
1. Prologue

_AN: This is my first fanfiction of substantial length, and is, unfortunately, unbeta'd. If anyone would like to throw edits at me by way of reviews, I would give you psychic wine of venerable vintage in gratitude._

_There is sex eventually, some violence, some macabre stuff, but all in good fun. I do not own the characters, only share a deep fondness with anyone else who has read the comics or seen the movie._

_I used character personality and voices which came from the movie, but I throw in a comic reference here and there. Props to anyone who catches the comic reference in this little prologue :)_

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There were good days, there were bad days, and then there were English days.

After the incident with Moriarty had gotten itself sorted out, the league had realized just how many of these English days they were going to see. Chilly, wet, and gray, English days could make even the toughest soul stir crazy, and certain members of the League were one barely one more raindrop away from calling it quits.

After all the saving the world shenanigans had wrapped up the League had been relegated to mostly busy work. Just because the League's history turned out to be a part of Moriarty's treachery didn't mean her majesty's empire wasn't interested in the group all the same. So now they found themselves doing research on cases of national security, checking up on small disturbances which could, maybe, _possibly,_ some day turn out to be just as bloody useless as they seemed to be on first take.

It was frustrating enough to make them all contemplate returning to old jobs with the CIA or go back to running wild through the streets of London. Skinner seriously considered wandering back 'round to that nice boarding school he'd had such fond memories of, and Mina was starting to delve into to some of her independent research again, paging through musty old volumes on someone called the Blood Countess. Nemo stayed quiet mostly, realizing in his own sage way that he could not influence any of his fellow League members in these decisions. Even if they all left, he'd always have his Nautilus as his constant home. Still, he hoped things wouldn't get bad enough that they'd all actually make good on their threats to abandon the organization.

So it was in the midst of uncertainty, boredom, and monotony that a tiny glimmer of hope shot through, a glimmer of hope in the form of Russian maniac with visions of world domination dancing around his head and enough money and influence to make it happen. Each member filled with their own silent relief at having a justification to stay, put on grim faces and straightened their britches to set out on a new quest to save the world..


	2. Chapter 1: Here we Go Again

AN: No other chapter should be this short. This really could be called the prologue part two I suppose, it sets up the story.

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Mina began to pull down the layers of her long scarf from around her face as soon as she entered the familiar building, her sharp precise steps echoing along the dark stone halls. The new electric lights not long ago installed by the extraordinary Mr. Tesla seemed to flicker on in response to her presence. The light was meager and tea coloured, but she allowed it a glance, appreciating the advancements in technology that she had survived to witness. Perhaps it was not quite of Nemo's caliber, but it was impressive in its own right.

Her attention snapped back to the large doors at the bottom of the stairs, her pupils dilating as she focused her energy and called on a blast of air to burst them open in an unusual show of power. To be fair, her hands had just been busy; it was un-lady like to open the door with one's hip after all.

Nevertheless all eyes were hers as she crossed the threshold. Her scarf now hanging freely around her neck, she quirked a smile and stopped her advancement, waiting.

"Well." She announced at length. "Will you not all sit down?"

The occupants of the room shared a glance, and if that look was laced with hope, well, they couldn't exactly blame each other, now could they?

It was almost a full minute before Mina gave up and let loose a much aggrieved sigh. "Really gentlemen, find your chairs and seat yourselves. I have some news that I promise you will not be disappointed in."

Skinner's smirk widened, creases forming in his white grease paint. "My oh my, what tantalizing stories from the farthest extremes of her majesty's kingdom are we to be tempted with now?"

Mina matched his stare evenly and reached into her coat, producing a sheaf of freshly printed pages, the signatures still damp where they had been scratched into the paper.


	3. Chapter 2: Old Friends

_AN: Um, sorry. long update time is long. /fail_

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The papers were tossed on to the table, slapping against its polished surface and sliding to rest in front of Nemo. It was a moment pregnant with expectations as the ship captain unfolded the documents and silently his eyes darted back in forth as he read.

Dark bushy eyebrows raised slowly in astonishment before he passed the papers on to a confused Sawyer. The American snatched them away, scanning the first page quickly before letting out a noise halfway between a hum of interest and a despairing moan. Skinner's seemingly empty coat sleeve tugged the sheaf from his grasp and without pausing to glance at the words written there he moved them on to the room's final occupant. Even more ashen than his usual sickly pallor, Dr. Jekyll took the pages and read them for a moment, his breath held, before he jumped and let out a yelp.

"Rasputin!?" All eyes in the room were turned incredulously upon their severe leader, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, and her own eyes narrowed to let them all know she was having none of it.

"Yes, Rasputin. Really gentlemen, I'd like to think that after dealing with Moriarty of all people, we would be ready to take on anyone who came our way."

"Yes, but, Rasputin…" several heads nodded in agreement with Jekyll's assessment. Mina sighed.

"Captain Nemo? Is the Nautilus ready to embark?"

"Indeed milady. Shall we leave immediately for the coordinates the army has given us?"

"I think it would be best. I have the strangest feeling that this isn't a man whom we should keep waiting…"

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It all seemed startlingly familiar, like a nighttime dream re-lived in the daylight. Nemo's bizarre automobile waiting for them outside, the steady patter of English rain wetting their shoulders, the grim glances briefly spared for each other. The only difference was that this time they knew their comrades, and their unease need not be blamed on uncertain company.

They made good time to the docks, the late hour allowing them to board the Nautilus with only the drunkards and the whores to be bothered with. Efficient as always, Nemo had the car stored and his navigators briefed nearly as soon as he stepped on board. It was with a turbulent mix of eargerness and uncertainty that the members of the League sank beneath the surface of the ocean, each grateful in their own way to hear the familiar rush of water enveloping the vessel, and the engines humming their steady song deep within the ship.

The members of the league quietly dispersed into the ship after the meeting, each dealing with his or her own set of troubling thoughts. They had faced down incredible evil together and they had been victorious. Hence, they delved into this new challenge with no small amount of confidence, but still, the task was daunting; rumors coming out of Eastern Europe spoke of a terrifying ghoul of a man, thin as a needle with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, thus far unable to die. No one knew his motivation, his true ambition, and the full extent of his strength and influence. But, of course, someone had to deal with him, and it might as well be her majesty's task force as they set out to save the world once again.

Tom let each of these thoughts drift through his head, as his fingers worked deftly on his rifle, his cleaning rag going over every detail of the gun. The disassembled parts lay out on a mostly clean white towel before him, yellow-brown finger marks swiped across the edges of the rag.

God, it was fantastic to be back on the Nautilus. Had someone told him a year ago he'd come to think of the submarine as a home, he would have laughed; he was a country boy, used to hot southern weather and foul-mouthed riverboat captains, not wide oceans and international intrigue! Moses, his life had taken some strange turns.

Thing was, it was an addicting sort of lifestyle, and the Nautilus with its mysterious inner workings was just one of the weights that kept him firmly anchored in the League.

Of course there were the people too. Oh the people, ever evolving and becoming warmer and the like, but with secrets still so goddamned elusive. They were a powerful bunch he'd taken to running with, and he couldn't help but feel he fell a bit farther back from the pack. He was only a sharpshooter from a fledgling CIA after all. Shit, he hadn't even been invited to join their little posse, but rather he had just plopped himself in to the middle of it unceremoniously. With Allen now dead and buried in some godforsaken African ditch he felt alone amongst his allies as the backwater hick from America with no secret talents to speak of.

Yet even that wasn't entirely fair to his friends; he knew they found him useful and even helpful at times. While his younger self would have balked and being relegated to such a back seat role, he relished it these days. At least they gave him something to work with, something he had been worried he'd loose once Allen was gone.

"The boy's got too much heart." He'd heard Mina say once while arguing in Allen. "It's a weakness we can't afford."

Quartermain had frowned and glared back squarely. "Just because most of us in this world have lost our souls, Mrs. Harker, doesn't mean we should be encouraging our Mr. Sawyer to be shedding his own just yet."

The woman had left, bristling and irritated, and Tom had felt his first real stab of guilt for playing the tagalong. He tried to toughen up, be more abrasive and thicker skinned, but every time they found themselves in dire situations, he wanted to be the hero again, unwilling to let his friends' lives take a second fiddle to the fate of the western world. He put everyone at risk with his actions and he knew it, and every time he'd tell himself it wouldn't happen again, but like a broken record events always played out the same.

Worried that the League would one day have enough of it and send him packing, he'd learned to keep his head lower than he could ever remembered holding it in his life. He was just grateful when Mina had kept her opinions to herself, and the rest of the group seemed obligingly oblivious.

Knowing the League, they were probably just ignoring him.

Tom chuckled darkly, grinding his teeth a little and trying to shake the sour mood. Sawyers didn't stew, they were headstrong and fearless, and when confronted with a psychotic madman, they jumped into action with guns a blazing. It was just too bad that his pigheadedness screwed the League over time and time again.

He was so wrapped up in himself he didn't notice Skinner's entrance into his quarters. Even when completely invisible, Tom had gotten fairly good at keeping track of the man, but for the moment his bare feet made too little noise to catch his attention. Skinner laughed to himself, announcing his presence to a startled Sawyer. "Keep thinking that hard and you'll hurt yourself Tommy boy. Your head just isn't that effective, I suggest you find other ways to get by in the doldrums of life."

The American jumped about a foot, clutching a dirty hand over his racing heart. "Jesus Skinner! No one ever teach you how to knock?"

The visitor just kept laughing "Ah, now, boy, no one ever teach you to close your door? Why any old jerk could just wander on in here and he'd have not a reason in the world to announce hisself."

"Excuse me if I expected everyone to know some basic politeness."

The thief was clearly enjoying their little verbal game. "What're you saying luv, don't you think I'm a gentleman? I'll have you know I'm about as bloody chivalrous as an Englishman can get."

"What sorts of criminal lowlifes have you been hanging around with would give you that idea?"

Skinner smirked, the image lost on Tom without his grease paint. "Why just ask any of my boys down on skid row. 'there's old Skinner!' they say. 'he's as gentlemanly as a thief can get. They oughtta knight the fellow. And he's good looking to boot.'"

Tom snorted, any affront gone as he returned to cleaning his guns. "Guess no one every taught you how to be humble either."

Again, Skinner laughed. "Would a humble bloke ever a gotten where we are today? You've got to be some sort of selfish to make it anywhere in this society."

Tom shrugged. "Yeah maybe. You got a reason for coming down here other than just chatting some philo-whatsits with me?"

With a much aggrieved sigh, Skinner clapped his shoulder. "Philosophy Tommy Boy, philosophy. And have I ever done anything without a good reason? Come on, Nemo says we're going up to breathe soon and I was hoping for some kindly companionship in my frigid wanderings up and down the deck."

Still confused, Tom began to put his guns and oil away all the same. "Is there some explanation for why you haven't got clothes on anyway?"

"Ah well," Skinner said lightly, "I suppose the exhibitionist in me is never quite satisfied, what with being transparent and unable to exercise my deviousness to it's full potential."

"Why do I know you again?"

Skinner's smile was clear in his voice. "Fame, fortune, glory, adventure, you know, all the things professionals will insist are destined to kill you."

"Yeah, that." Tom smiled back.


End file.
